


where the compass points to

by kamsangi



Series: daisies in a wheat-field [4]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Future Fic, Homesickness, Introspection, M/M, Making Out, Nostalgia, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamsangi/pseuds/kamsangi
Summary: The sunlight falls across the gentle slant of his nose and his freckled cheekbones and—happiness just looks so good on him.He looks so happy to be home.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix
Series: daisies in a wheat-field [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938556
Comments: 45
Kudos: 307





	where the compass points to

**Author's Note:**

> back with another thoroughly self-indulgent update in the daisies series aka Chanlix Are In Love And It's Canon series! australians please suspend your disbelief while reading this, i beg you. also please forgive me for how goddamn sappy it is. i just really wanted this.
> 
> a massive thanks to everyone following and reading this, it really makes my entire month to see the response via comments, bookmarks and tweets. i can only promise more fics in the future because i just really like this 'verse.
> 
> enjoy!

Someone’s playing the piano.

Chris pauses at the top of the stairs, hand perched lightly over the bannister as he listens.

There’s a tinkling laugh as the piano continues, followed by a bark, and another. Someone’s phone rings, an old Bee Gees song that sounds tinny as it echoes through the hallway. His mother calls out from the living room for his father. Footsteps, the steady thump of human ones and the small pattering of puppy ones, travel across the porcelain tiles at different rhythms. The piano stops, and his sister says something that he can’t quite make out from where he is.

It all washes over him, comforting in a way he’s missed for a long, long time. Familiar, like coming home for the first time in a long time.

And he _has_ come home. There’s new paint on some of the walls, and he doesn’t quite remember some of the furniture, and some of the family photos lining the shelves are brand new (they don’t all have Chris in them, and it’s fine), but it’s his home, alright.

Chris is home.

He steps down the stairs into the light of the sun streaming through the translucent curtains, and turns the corner just in time to open his arms and catch Berry padding right up to him. “Hi, Berry-baby,” he murmurs, tucking her into his arms. Berry licks at his chin with reckless abandon, tail wagging excitedly. “Yeah, little one. I’m home. Who’s a good girl? Who’s the best little puppy in the whole wide world? Is it you? Is it you? Of course it’s you. My bestest little baby. My cute widdle fluffy-wuffy doggie-woggie baby-boo.”

“Wow,” comes his sister’s voice, completely deadpan, “do your fans know you’re this whipped for a dog?”

Chris sighs, nuzzling against Berry’s soft fur. He wishes he could bring her back with him. “They’ve got me on camera saying way worse,” he says, “I’m pretty sure they know.”

His sister laughs, finally unfettered by the crackle of a video call or bad wifi, and Chris shoots her a grin that momentarily falters when she passes him on her way to the staircase. _When did she get so tall?_ he wonders, glancing over his shoulder as he does a double-take. It’s really not just her. His little brother, too. They’re both so tall now. He remembers them both barely coming up to his shoulder the last time he’d been back, and now—

The piano starts back up, some bright, cheery tune that he almost recognises.

 _Kids grow up,_ he tells himself. There’s an ache in his chest that threatens to not subside if he dwells on it any longer. _They’ve both grown up, that’s all._

He just hasn’t been here to see it.

“Chan-ah!”

“Yeah, mum?”

He lets Berry hop back down to the floor, stepping around her as he heads towards the kitchen. It’s really nothing like the dorm and its clear delineation between each room, and the long hallway that splits the living room and their kitchen. Their house is wide open and clean, white tones offset by the baby-blue bookshelf and its dozens of books, the brightly-patterned sofa cushions, the old mahogany piano stood against the wall.

There’s a massive spread of food across the dining table and the kitchen island, almost as much as the first time he’d brought the kids back home during their first tour here. His mum always gets a bit overboard whenever it comes to cooking for guests, but she enjoys it.

Chris hovers around the edge of the counter, resisting the urge to poke a finger into the open pot of his favourite curry that’s cooling beside the drinks. “You called?”

“Help me set up the folding table.” His mum’s replying a message on her phone, her reading glasses barely balanced on the tip of her nose. “They’re on the way. About ten minutes.”

“Felix’s mum texted you?”

She hums affirmatively. “They’re stopping by the store first.”

“Okay.” Chris takes a step before freezing. “Um, where’s the folding table again?”

“The storeroom, Chan-ah.”

“Right,” Chris says, turning the other direction, “okay.”

“And bring the chairs too!”

“The chairs. Right. The ones—in the storeroom too. Those chairs.”

He doesn’t remember where anything is. Of course he doesn’t. He hasn’t been home in a year—more than a year, really. It doesn’t stop Chris from feeling like a complete stranger regardless, having to ask where things are in his own house.

The table is exactly where it’s always been, propped up against the wall in the storeroom. He doesn’t know how he’d forgotten, it hasn’t been kept anywhere else since they’d moved here, but—he’d still forgotten anyway.

 _It’s not my fault,_ Chris tells himself as he hauls the stack of chairs in from the storeroom too. _It’s not. I’ve just been away._

 _But it is,_ another tiny, distant part of his brain tells him. _You’re the one who moved away. You’re the one who chose this. You don’t get to be upset._

Chris sets the chairs down, and starts unstacking them on autopilot.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. He’ll relearn every single inch of this house before he has to fly back to Seoul even if it takes the entire week.

He doesn’t even have a whole week left. The concert was on Saturday night, and it’s Tuesday already. He’s already been here for three, almost four days. Three more, and it’s farewell yet again to this house, this neighbourhood, this city, this country, this entire continent.

His family, whose smiles still haven’t let up since they touched down on Friday morning.

Is it possible to be homesick even when you’re already home?

Chris wonders. It might be.

It just might.

“Chris?”

He glances up as he’s pushing the last chair into place. “Yeah, buddy?”

Seated at the piano, his little brother kicks his feet back, looking up at Chris with big, expectant eyes. “We’ll get to sit together at lunch, right? You won’t be sitting with the adults. Will you?”

“’Course,” Chris says, padding over to ruffle his little brother’s hair, beaming down at him. “You and me and Felix. And—we can break out that card game you wanted to try, too.”

“Aw, yeah,” his brother exclaims, “wait, I gotta go bring it down, otherwise I’ll forget!”

Chris watches him speed off with all the exuberance of the fourteen-year-old teenager that he is, the smile not leaving his face even after he’s disappeared upstairs.

“He’s been waiting for you to come home and play that game with him,” his mum mentions. “He’s talked about it for an entire week.”

“I’ve missed him too,” Chris says quietly. “Both of them. All of you.”

His mother comes around the counter to wrap her arms around him, and he hugs her back, leaning his head against her shoulder like he’s a kid again even though he’s far taller than her now. “My son,” she murmurs in Korean, the words familiar and soothing in her voice, “the only thing that matters is that you’re home.”

“Okay, eomma.”

She lets go, and pinches his cheek lightly. “And look at you,” she says. “I see you in so many photos and videos and I still can’t believe how much you’ve grown.”

Chris rubs at his face, laughing. “I’m not _that_ tall, eomma,” he says. And, alright, he’s not too short either. He’s just… fun-sized.

“And Felix too! That boy’s changed so much.” She clucks her tongue, moving to get her phone from the counter. “I’ll have to give him a proper hug when he arrives. Get a good look at him.”

“Me too,” Chris says, feeling fond. Of course his mum wants to hug Felix. Who wouldn’t? Chris thinks about it every single day. Has, ever since Felix clambered into his bunk and let him tuck their ankles together and whispered his trust and affection for Chris to hear all those months ago. Long before Chris had even realised Felix felt the same way.

“His parents must be so proud,” she continues, oblivious to Chris’ internal monologue. “He did so well at the concert, they must have been so happy to see him. Like we were to see you.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Felix, who always works so hard to prove himself, especially to the family he’d struggled to convince to let him chase his dreams. Chris is just as proud of him as anyone else. “He was really happy to see everyone too. Oh, and he was really excited to come over today, I’m so glad his parents said it would be alright.”

His mum gives him a knowing look. “He’s excited, or _you’re_ excited?”

Chris shrugs with one shoulder, trying to look nonchalant. “I mean,” he starts, “I just really like… hanging out with Felix. That’s all.”

“I’m sure,” his mum says, “ah, Chan-ah, watch the door while I’m upstairs?”

“Yeah, alright.”

He’s left with his thoughts and the food for a few long moments. Chris leans against the counter and contemplates the probability of him getting away with sneaking a spoonful of curry before his mother comes back downstairs. Maybe two spoonfuls. A little bowl. Just a tiny little one. His stomach growls. Alright. Maybe the entire pot.

From her little bed by the television, Berry lifts her head, her little ears perking up as she listens for something that Chris can’t hear.

Then, she bounces right up and runs straight to the door, her nails clattering along the tile. Outside, there’s the sound of a car pulling into the driveway—oh, _oh,_ it’s Felix, it has to be. Chris straightens up, calling, “They’re here!”

He doesn’t even get to the door first—his dad steps right down the stairs closest to the entrance and pulls the door open for their guests. “Hello!” he calls, and Chris peers over his shoulder, seeing the doors of the parked sedan open up. “Come right in, it’s been a while.”

“How’re you going?”

“Good, good—”

Chris’ mum appears right behind them, smiling. “Hi girls, come in—leave your shoes by the mat, it’s fine—”

“Hi, Auntie Jess, Uncle Jack!” Felix pops up right behind his own dad, clutching a container in his hands. “Thanks for having us over!” Then, Felix spots Chris, and his smile grows ten times wider. “Channie-hyung!”

His hair’s just barely tamed, windswept and light around his temples. His mask’s fallen halfway to his chin and his eyes are tired like he’d spent the entire night awake, but the sunlight falls across the gentle slant of his nose and his freckled cheekbones and—happiness just looks so good on him.

He looks so happy to be home.

“Felix, hi,” Chris says, beaming. “Hey, come in—Mr. Lee, Mrs. Lee, hi, hi, nice to see everyone again—”

There’s a bit of a jumble as everyone gets stuck in the door. Chris hangs back to let his parents usher their guests in, waiting by for Felix to shuck his sneakers by the shoe-rack before bounding in, all brightness and cheer.

“I brought these,” Felix says, catching everyone’s attention as he holds the Tupperware up, “um, they’re chocolate fudge brownies—I wasn’t entirely sure if you’d like it, but I didn’t want to come over without bringing anything.”

Chris’ mouth falls open. “When’d you even find the time to make them?”

“He stayed up all night, baked a whole bunch,” Felix’s mum says, and Felix goes pink, hiding behind his eldest sister. “Saved the best batch for lunch.”

“Felix! You shouldn’t have.” Chris’ mum looks horribly fond already. Chris knows the feeling. “Very, very sweet of you.”

“I just had to ask mum to help me buy the ingredients,” Felix mumbles, running a hand through his hair, “it wasn’t any trouble.” He glances up at Chris and smiles. “It’s the least I could do.”

God, does Chris wish he could kiss him. Right then and there. If only they were alone, because Chris would.

The very thought makes him giddy. He's allowed to kiss Felix whenever he wants. For no reason at all, even. He can kiss Felix just because he wants to.

Chris gets to kiss Felix just because.

“Ah, right, speaking of lunch—”

As their parents start to chatter about the food, Felix ambles over to set the desserts on the counter, and step closer to Chris. “Hi,” he says softly, meeting his eyes with a smile. “I’m here.”

“Hi,” Chris says, biting back the desire to lean in and close the gap between their faces. “Here to see Berry, yeah?”

Felix perks up. “Where is she?”

Chris glances around to find her, and—there she is, weaving between everyone’s legs, her little tail wagging as she takes in all the new faces. “Berry, baby,” Chris calls, “c’mere,” and she scuttles right over, everyone else forgotten. "Remember Felix, Berry? Of course you do, don't you?"

"Berry!" Felix's voice twists into something high and sweet, the little voice he puts on whenever he gets excited. "Berry, hi, Berry." He crouches down to give Berry a pat on the head, before tucking both hands under her to pick her up. "Oh, she's—aah, she's trying to lick my face—"

Chris laughs, watching Felix tilt his head back, attempting to avoid her slobbery dog tongue. "She's missed you."

"I've missed her too," Felix says, smiling down at her. He pets her with one gentle hand, just barely dragging the tips of his fingers through her fur. He’s always so sweet with dogs. Chris knows he's wanted one for a long time. _Maybe one day,_ he suddenly thinks, _one day we could get a dog. Together._

Chris mentally slaps himself.

It’s far too soon, too soon. Sure, they’ve pined over each other for years, but it’s only been a few days since they’d gotten it out of their systems. They've barely talked about what this is. He can't just jump straight to thinking about stuff like th—

"Guys! Look at Berry," Felix calls out to his sisters, clutching Berry close to his cheek with a big smile. "Isn't she the cutest?"

But he just looks so perfect holding Berry, standing in the middle of Chris' kitchen.

Chris just keeps watching, not realising his dad's come up behind him until he says, "Feeling left out?"

"Huh? Oh." Chris shakes his head. "Not at all. Just..." he says, "it's nice. Just getting to see him be happy like this."

His dad claps a hand on his shoulder as he passes. "It always is, isn't it?"

Chris doesn't get to wonder if he's given too much away, because he's immediately corralled into helping his mother get the drinks and cups out, and then Felix's parents are asking him about their music, and before he knows it, they're all sitting on the floor to play the card game his brother had wanted to play. Chris' head swims with the influx of social interaction—but he loves it, absolutely thrives off it.

And, the entire time, Felix sits across from him, sneaking him glances and tiny, hidden smiles.

He's here. He's in Chris' home, playing cards with his little brother, trading jokes with his sister, sipping water out of a mug Chris remembers using his entire life, laughing and making silly faces and looking more relaxed than he has in the last few months.

Felix is here, and it feels unreal.

It's been the steady mantra keeping up in his mind for the last few days. That this is real no matter how much disbelief marks his every thought. That they'd allowed themselves to feel what they want to feel, to perceive each other in this new, unknown, exhilarating way. That they're sitting here, three feet apart, having kissed just days ago. That no one else in this room knows.

Not his parents. Not Felix's, not their siblings.

There's something both nerve-wracking and thrilling about keeping a secret this big. Chris had spent the entirety of the night before just thinking about it, tangled up in sheets that smell too clean, lying in a bed he hasn't slept on in years. The more he'd dwelled, the more uneasy and knotted up he'd felt about all of it. Not telling his parents, putting the group into jeopardy, destroying their careers.

Then, Felix had texted him. One single line, lit up on Chris' phone.

_Can't wait to see you tomorrow._

He doesn't want to dwell on it anymore. Not now. Not this week, while he can afford to just pretend a little longer. Not now, while they're away from all the lights and cameras and expectations of the world an ocean away.

Felix belongs right here, with him. Chris isn't going to let him go.

He doesn’t think they’ve ever all sat down to eat like this before.

It’s about time, anyway, considering how close their families seem to have gotten over the last couple of years. Chris honestly hadn’t even known about the recipe trading, or the occasional meet-ups for tea. He’d just figured they kept in contact occasionally, just to talk about what him and Felix were up to.

It’s nice. Everyone feels close in a way Chris hadn’t known they could.

And Felix fits in so well. He’s always gotten along so easily with people, it’s really shouldn’t be any surprise to Chris that he’s chattering away with Chris’ sister and indulging his little brother in conversation too, all the while still seeking out his own sisters with excited laughter.

It’s nice. It really is. Just getting to see him be happy like this.

Chris only ever wants him to be happy.

Under the table, Berry thumps her tail expectantly, looking up at Felix.

Felix pouts. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, “I can’t give you anything.”

Berry doesn’t let up, so Felix gives her a scratch behind the ears. She pushes her head up against his hand, tail wagging, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Sweet girl.

"Aw, look at that," Chris says, unable to keep his smile back. His heart’s stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat, beating harder each time Felix’s face lights up with delight. “She loves you.”

_I love you._

Felix glances up, beaming right back at him. "I love her too.”

_I love you, too._

Chris finally tears his gaze away from Felix, only to find Felix’s mum looking at him curiously. He looks back down at his plate, feeling the blood rush to his ears. Distantly, there’s a sinking feeling in his chest that maybe she knows something’s up—he knows he hadn’t dreamt the way their parents had given them those odd looks, the night of the concert.

Maybe there’s another reason, Chris attempts to convince himself. It’s probably nothing.

“Pass the rice,” his dad says, and Chris does, taking the chance to snatch up the water jug too, refilling the kids’ glasses before they can protest. The kids—his and Felix’s siblings, he means. He’s far too used to doing this for the others back in Seoul. Always taking care of them.

He used to see his little brother’s face in theirs. Now, he looks at his siblings and sees them, too.

Chris still can’t tell which one makes him hurt a little more.

“Chan-hyung,” Felix says, catching his attention. “can I take a photo? For the group chat?”

“Oh,” Chris exclaims, wondering why he hadn’t thought of that himself, “yeah, bro, go for it. Hey, um,” he says a little louder for the rest of the table, “is it okay if Felix takes a photo of us? To send to the kids?”

Everyone nods their assent, so Felix hops over to the front of the table and angles his phone up to take a selfie. “Everyone say kimchi!” he says brightly, holding his other hand up in a peace sign.

Chris does the same, leaning in nearer to his little brother as the shutter of Felix’s iPhone goes off.

“Send us that later, would you?” Chris’ dad asks Felix’s parents as Felix comes around to where Chris is, showing him the group chat and the members’ reactions.

_wow so much food!!!!! jealous_

_hi chan-hyung’s parents, lix’s parents! and assorted siblings_

_chan-hyung why didn’t you invite us this year. i miss ur dad’s grilling ㅠㅠㅠ_

_yongbok-ah ur really part of the bang family already huhㅋ_

_kaengpil selfie plz_

The last one is a request from Hyunjin, who sends the one message and nothing else.

Felix raises his phone again. “For Hyunnie,” he says, grinning, and Chris smiles too, tilting his head towards Felix as he takes a photo, and another, and another until Felix is satisfied with the angle. “There. Perfect.”

“Perfect,” Chris repeats, patting Felix on the arm as he goes back to his seat.

“You should post that one on Instagram,” Felix’s older sister says, motioning at Felix’s phone with her spoon. “Your fans like that sort of thing, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, not looking up as he types, “but I wanna keep those. For us.”

Chris’ phone pings. He surreptitiously slides open the notification to see that Felix has sent him the nicest of the photos, different from the one he’d sent in the group chat. The two of them, faces tilted close, smiles warm. It’s funny. He almost doesn’t recognise the look on his own face. A bit more open, a bit softer, a little less playful.

_For us._

Chris saves the photo to his gallery, and pockets his phone again.

Lunch clears out quick, and it’s not long before Chris is attempting to persuade his mum into letting him help clean up. “I won’t be here for long,” he says. “Let me do it.”

“Exactly,” she responds, “now go entertain your guests.”

“I could wash just… one plate?”

She looks pointedly towards the living room, and Chris huffs a breath. He guesses he should be glad that he’s escaping the mountain of dishes piled up by the sink, but it’s not like he gets to do anything for her much these days.

He busies himself with getting drinks instead, and then, as he’s putting the last glass down, he catches sight of Felix petting Berry again, looking so content to just be there, fingers combing through her fur. Abruptly, Chris wants nothing more than to pull him close and kiss him.

 _You can’t,_ he thinks. _Don’t be an idiot._ Everyone else is still here, and—

—and he says without thinking, “Hey, Felix. Wanna see my old room?”

Felix blinks up at him, but he catches on quick. “Yeah, sure.”

“Hasn’t he seen it before?”

“He barely got a good look the last time,” Chris says, tugging Felix to his feet. “We’ll be quick, promise.”

“No rush,” Felix’s dad says, looking somewhat amused. “We’re not leaving just yet.”

Felix complies, following after Chris obediently, who leads them past the living room and to the staircase leading to the upper landing.

"I barely remember the last time I was here, besides all the food your parents made," Felix admits, following him up the steps. "And the room where your mum keeps all our posters."

Chris lets out a groan, covering his eyes. "They’re still there, y'know. She's taken down some of 'em to put up our new ones, but most of the ones you guys saw are still there."

"And the baby photos?" Felix chances, shooting him a grin.

"Yeah, nah," Chris says, reaching the top step, "I'm keeping those locked up. I don't need you of all people seeing them."

"C'mon," Felix wheedles, "or I'll ask your mum."

Chris pauses in front of his door, hand on the knob. "You wouldn't. Felix Lee."

"Try me," Felix says, all challenging, leaning in close.

Chris' gaze drops to his mouth, and there's a brief moment that passes between them before Chris is opening the door and striding in.

The room is still the same. Medals adorning the lower wall. His desk on the left, closet on the right. Chris stands by the bed, back to Felix. "Close the door," he says.

He hears the familiar click of the lock, and the wispy sound of Felix taking one step closer, and another until they're just a breath's width apart, and then he feels Felix's dry, warm lips press against the back of his ear as his arms slide around Chris' middle, safe and secure.

Every complicated thought he'd had in this room falls away and dissipates.

Chris exhales, and twines their fingers together. "Felix," he breathes, voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah," Felix says, low and steady, "yeah, Chris."

Hearing Felix say his name—not hyung, not Chan-hyung, not even just Chan, but _Chris_ —in that tone of voice makes him shiver. Chris tilts his head to catch Felix's mouth, and the thrumming, electric anticipation that's been simmering in his veins finally sparks him into action. He turns in Felix's hold to kiss him properly, kiss him the way he's wanted to for days, kiss him the same way they'd kissed back in that hotel room.

Loving, wanting, like it means everything to him.

(It does.)

"Missed you," Chris murmurs, cupping Felix's face in his palms and pressing another kiss to his lips, and another, and another, until Felix is melting against him as he kisses back, warm and sweet and all his.

"It's only been two days," Felix whispers against Chris' mouth when they part, letting out a quiet laugh.

"Too long," Chris breathes him in, holds him close. He’s addicted to the way this feels, the way Felix tastes. "This is so bad," he remarks softly, "I want to kiss you all the time, now."

"Same," Felix says, nuzzling at Chris' cheek. He kisses Chris there, and then the corner of his mouth, and then their lips meet again, warm and soft and still feeling just as new as the very first time. It's not strange. It's not awkward. It just feels like they were always meant to meet like this. Fingers laced, noses bumping, smiles converging within one single point.

Chris wants to taste his smile forever, wants to keep his little breaths close, wants to seal away the memory of Felix's smile somewhere deep in his chest, somewhere only they know.

Felix pulls back, a quiet sigh on his lips. “I still want that tour, by the way.”

“Oh my god,” Chris says, and Felix starts to laugh, shoulders shaking with mirth. “You’re literally in my room _right now.”_

“Doesn’t count,” Felix singsongs, stepping away from Chris to take a look at his plushie collection, stacked up neatly against his pillows. Chris stares at him, feeling that familiar fondness rise in his chest yet again for his silly, ridiculous boy. “Besides. My mum’s definitely gonna ask me about it later, and I can’t tell her you just showed me the inside of your mouth.”

“Please stop talking,” Chris says, slapping his palm to his forehead. Felix laughs even harder, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Felix!”

Felix mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“You’re awful.” Chris tugs him over to his desk. “Fine. Welcome to Channie’s Room—literally, I suppose.”

He spends the next ten minutes showing Felix everything, from the action figures on his bedside table (“Stop, stop, I didn’t know you had _more_ of these”) to the closet full of clothes that are every colour besides black (“Oh, so that’s where they went, huh”) to the old photos from high-school that he’d kept in a drawer.

(“Did you seriously dress as Kakashi for Halloween?”

“Call me a weeb one more time and I’m never kissing you again.”)

Eventually, it devolves into Felix teasing Chris even more, and Chris tackling him to the bed to tickle him into an apology. Felix squirms and gasps out a laugh and tugs at Chris until he’s right on top of him.

Then, Felix kisses him again, and Chris kisses back, not a shred of self-restraint left in his body.

He pulls back after a couple of moments, whispering, “Okay, okay, we gotta stop. We’ve been gone for too long.”

“Whose fault was that?” Felix’s lower lip sticks out. “One more. Please.”

Chris can’t ever say no, can’t he?

A last little kiss, and then they’re heading back downstairs, almost forgetting to let go of each other’s hands before they reach the final step.

Their parents are all in the living room, still talking over drinks.

But, the moment Chris and Felix appear, they pause and glance up at them.

“Um,” Chris says, suddenly feeling a bit scrutinised. “Are you all discussing top-secret stuff about how we’re both terrible sons and don’t call home enough?”

“Something like that,” Felix’s dad says, and Felix snorts. “Your sisters are outside—they’re filming some sort of video.”

Chris glances towards the glass doors, where their siblings seem to be recording some sort of questionable TikTok dance. Oh god.

“Oh, nice,” Felix says, making to move towards the porch, but then he stops. “Wait, did you all try the brownies yet? Were they okay?”

“They’re great, honey.”

“Very delicious,” Chris’ mum says, “you did such a good job on them.”

Felix beams, and shoots them all a thumbs up, before scampering off to join the others.

Chris’ mum exhales, smiling. “You’d better keep that boy, Chan-ah.”

“Yeah,” Chris says, only half-listening to what she’s saying, entirely distracted by Felix’s laugh. “I will.”

Another red light.

Chris peers over the steering wheel, one hand resting loosely on the gear shift.

It’s been a while since he’s driven, but his dad had given him a quick refresher before he’d left. They’d taken a lap around the neighbourhood, Chris readjusting to the feel of their old Mazda and the road under its tyres. He’d felt all of eighteen years old again, learning to drive for the first time, his dad looking on with care.

“Just don’t hit any trees and you’ll be fine,” he’d finally joked, and Chris had sighed, promising to avoid any and all tall objects on his way to Felix’s house.

Felix’s house. He’s never actually been there before, in all the time they’ve known each other. It’s incredible, Chris thinks, that they hadn’t ever met before with how close by they stay to each other. Maybe in another lifetime. In another universe that isn’t theirs.

Maybe they were just meant to meet like this, two souls far away from home.

Chris drags a finger across the screen of his phone just to check how far out he is. Ten minutes, according to Google Maps. That’s fine, that’s not too far. Traffic’s been decent, and he hasn’t gotten lost just yet.

For some reason, when he’d asked if he could take the car to go hang out with Felix for the night, his parents hadn’t looked surprised in the slightest. They’d exchanged gazes between themselves, and then his dad had agreed like it was the easiest decision he’d ever made in his life.

Maybe they kn—

_No. No, Chris. You’re just overthinking it. Just chill out._

“Chill,” he tells himself, just remembering to signal before he takes a corner. “Don’t worry, Chris. S’all good. It’s all good. Everything is just fine.”

“Recalculating,” his phone says happily, and Chris swears under his breath, searching out the right street to take again.

Twenty minutes later, he finds himself coming up on a row of yellow-green lawns. His phone tells him that he’s arrived, so he stops in front of what should be Felix’s house and shoots off a quick text message to say that he’s here.

It’s not even thirty seconds later that Felix is speeding down the driveway, waving over his shoulder to whoever’s standing in the shade of the doorway.

Chris leans out the window. “Hi,” he says, grinning. “Someone sure is excited.”

“Hi,” Felix returns, not sparing him a glance as he makes for the passenger’s side, “let’s go!”

Chris blinks. “Y’know,” he says, as Felix shuts the door and straps himself in, “here I was, thinking I’d get some sort of lecture from your parents about driving you around without adult supervision.”

“Dad said that as long you managed to get here in one piece, it’d be fine.” Felix looks at him expectantly. “And you’re the adult here.”

“Barely,” Chris mumbles, putting the car into drive. “So, ready for a bit of sightseeing?”

“Yeah,” Felix affirms, “it’s a date.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Felix rub at his cheek, looking a bit pink-faced already. “I mean—it is, isn’t it?”

Chris lets out a breath. “If it were a date,” he says softly, “we’d be holding hands.”

And he holds his left hand out to Felix, palm up.

Felix takes his hand, and curls their fingers together. “It’s a date,” he repeats, shy and pleased.

Chris smiles, not taking his eyes off the road.

They won’t get to do this back in Seoul. Not really, not like this.

So, off they go. Definitely not to Strathfield, where they’d probably get recognised in a heartbeat. Not anywhere too close to their own places. Not anywhere that’s too crowded, or too busy. Not anywhere they’d run the chance of bumping into someone they might know.

It takes them a good forty minutes, a stop for snacks, and a lot of loud, uncoordinated singing along to one of Felix’s Spotify playlists, but they finally get there.

Towards the east, the coast calls their names.

Chris drives along the main road, searching out a spot to park. He vaguely remembers a parking complex three streets down, so he turns on the next left, trying his luck. “Here, maybe?” he asks.

“Further down, it says.”

“Cheers,” Chris says. “Oh, here we go.”

“Okay,” Felix says, staring out the window, “like, I know it’s Wednesday and all, but—why’s it look so empty out tonight?”

“I dunno.” Chris rolls up to the gate and squints at the signboard. Five dollar flat rate for parking after seven, it declares in the tiniest font he’s ever seen. “Lucky for us, I suppose. You don’t mind walking a little bit, d’you?”

Felix shakes his head. “I don’t mind,” he answers, “and I saw a Starbucks on the corner, right by the beach. We could… maybe… stop by?”

Chris looks over at him and finds Felix twiddling his fingers together, looking hopeful. “Cookies and cream again?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Felix says innocently.

Chris just pretends to sigh. “Yeah, alright.”

At Felix’s whoop, Chris laughs. Felix and his frappuccino addiction will be the death of him, honestly. As he turns in, keeping an eye out for an empty parking bay, Felix says, “Reminds me of the time you said you wanted to go to a deserted island with me.”

“I said that? When?”

“Dunno. A concert, maybe?” Felix taps his fingers along the side of the door, humming. “Just you and me. Out here, in Sydney. No one else around.”

“Well. It’s not quite camping on the beach together,” Chris says, one arm around the back of Felix’s seat as he glances over his shoulder to reverse park, “but, y’know. Close enough.”

"Yeah," Felix says, "sitting in your dad's car. Just like camping. Exactly like camping."

Chris gives him a look as the car comes to a halt. “Are you really sassing the person who’s driving you home later?”

Felix snickers. “You wouldn’t just leave me here,” he says confidently.

“Is that a challenge?”

“No,” Felix says, eyes curved in a smile, “it’s the truth.”

Chris leans over to playfully bite at his shoulder, and Felix swats at him lightly. “Yeah, yeah, alright.” Chris pulls back, and turns the engine off. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

He remembers coming here years ago with friends.

The sun, bright and dizzying above their heads. Dozens of people packed along the shoreline. The call of gulls, ships in the distance, music from a radio or two. They’d waded out into the ocean, jumped against the high waves, and splashed each other silly until they were all kinds of exhausted and hungry and sunburnt.

The sand crunches under Chris’ soles.

It’s different like this, once the sky begins to darken. Once things get quiet.

Felix stands a little further out, taking photos of the sunset with his phone. Chris contemplates doing the same, but the only thing he wants to remember about this place in this very moment is just them. Right here, right now, together.

He can taste the salt on the back of his tongue. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore fills him up, keeps him grounded as he shuts his eyes.

It’s beautiful. He’s always loved the ocean in all its might, even in its stillness.

Chris opens his eyes just as the sun begins to skim the far horizon, sending streaks of orange, pink and purple slinking across the open blue sky.

Felix turns, and takes a photo of him. “Look here,” he calls. “Chan-hyung, look here!”

The light of the setting sun gently rests along his cheekbones and in his eyelashes and across the bow of his lip, dusting his skin gold. Freckles like constellations, like a metaphor he’s long left behind on a pier back in Seoul. Kissed by the sky and the waves, loved by many.

He’s beautiful.

“I’m looking,” Chris says, voice feeling a bit hoarse. Somehow, Felix just does that to him. Takes all his words away, grinds them into dust with a single smile, leaves Chris breathless and wanting. “How many are you going to take?”

“As many as I can,” Felix says, snapping away, “so I can look at them whenever I want.”

Chris’ ears feel warm. “You see me every day,” he says, feeling a bit bashful.

“Not like this.” Felix glances up at him, something soft in his eyes. A reflection of Chris’ own affection. “It’s different.”

“Okay.” Chris clears his throat. “You wanna take some together, though?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Felix bounds over with all the exuberance of a puppy, leaping straight into the arm that Chris holds out to catch him with. He tucks his head against the curve of Chris’ shoulder and holds his phone up. “Smile,” he says, and Chris does, his other arm going around Felix’s waist to tug him closer. “Different pose. Okay, now your Chan’s Room thing, the v over the eye. Ah, one more, one more—no, do this—”

“Felix, I’m pretty sure that’s enough photos.”

“I’m taking as many as I wa—Chan-hyung, give me my phone— _Chan-hyung!”_

Their laughter carries across the ocean breeze.

Where Chris takes them next is even quieter than the beach had been.

It’s a little lookout point that’s not very popular. They drive up, park a bit further out where no one else is, and push the seat back a little to sit on the edge of the car boot. Chris pops open a slightly too-warm bottle of lemonade for Felix, and Felix tips half a bag of potato chips into his palms, stealing one before Chris can even try them.

Above them, the stars shine, far above the skyline.

Felix thumbs at his phone, the Spotify app open yet again. Chris is amazed his phone hasn’t run out of battery. “Gotta play this one,” Felix says, matter-of-fact, and he sets his phone down between them as Coldplay’s Yellow begins. He’s right. It's the perfect song for this.

 _“Look at the stars,”_ Chris sings easily, the words fresh in his memory. He’d just been listening to this a day ago, thinking about the night sky. _“Look how they shine for you—and everything you do.”_

The stars in the sky. The sun setting on the beach. Felix’s hair, the colour of his laugh.

They were all yellow. Golden, bright, shimmering yellow.

Felix hums along, leaning against Chris’ shoulder. “Such a good song,” he murmurs. “I love it.”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees. “Maybe one day I’ll write one like it. For you.”

(He’s lying.

He’s already written far too many songs about Felix to count.)

“You should,” Felix says. “Sing it to me, too.”

“Yeah,” Chris says, deliberately not looking at Felix, “and maybe you can put it on that playlist of yours. The one with that title.” It's that one, the one he always sees Felix listening to in his Friend Activity, late at night and in bed. Felix, some Coldplay song, playlist title: _songs i want you to sing to me._

Felix, mid-sip, chokes on his lemonade. “Shit,” he coughs, and Chris helpfully thumps a fist against his back, “wait, how do you know I have a playlist about you?”

“Oh, so it is about me,” Chris says, triumphant. “I was just guessing.”

Felix makes a defeated noise, putting his face in his hands. “I thought no one could see.”

“You have to click private session,” Chris says sympathetically.

“Oh.” Felix looks incredulous. “Oh my god. I’m so dumb.”

Chris laughs, and tilts his head to brush his mouth against Felix’s cheek. “Please. You’re not, alright? It’s okay,” he says, voice low, “I’ll sing them all to you. Give me time.”

Felix shivers, and tips his chin. His nose runs along the line of Chris’ jaw. “We have all the time in the world. You said, that night.”

They don’t. Not truly. They’re bound by the time and space they exist in, the lives they lead. This normalcy—it’s the kind of normal that’s not theirs. For them, it’s the exception.

Chris wishes he could give Felix more than just the exceptions.

“I did,” he whispers, and he curls his fingers around Felix’s wrist. “And even if we don’t, I’ll make time.”

“Promise,” Felix says.

“I promise.” Chris tucks his other hand under Felix’s chin, redirecting him until their eyes meet. There’s no one else around. Not a single sound of a car coming down the road, or voices from afar. Chris clamps down the part of him that’s screaming about needing to be responsible, and lets himself have this, just once. “Come here.”

Felix’s mouth meets his, and Chris sinks beyond himself into the warmth of the fondness Felix holds in every touch of his fingertips along Chris’ face, along the little curl of hair at the nape of his neck, along his arms and wrists and his own fingers. It’s drowning and breathing anew all in one.

They break the kiss, and Chris rests their foreheads together. He can feel Felix’s lashes against his skin. “We should talk about this. What we’re doing.”

“Kissing,” Felix promptly says. “That’s what we’re doing.”

“I mean, this.” Chris shuts his eyes, not sure what his next words should be. “What this is, between us.”

Felix tucks their hands together, and pulls back. “I know,” he says quietly. “But—whatever it is, whatever you’re going to say it is, I just—I want to be with you. That’s all I want. No matter what that means.”

“That’s what you want. Okay,” Chris says, “yeah, that’s what I want, too. It’s just that…” He sucks in a breath. “You’re okay with no one else knowing? With not getting to ever be… be like other people?”

“We’re not like other people,” Felix says simply, and the words are a jolt. “We’re never gonna be like other people. It’s okay. Isn’t it?”

“It’s okay,” Chris repeats, more for himself than Felix. “Yeah, of course it’s okay. As long as you’re okay.”

“As long as _you’re_ okay.”

Chris lets out a laugh. “Okay,” he says, “I think we’ve established that we’re both okay.”

Felix shakes his head, smiling. “What do you want?”

“I—” The words get stuck in Chris’ mouth, sticky and unrelenting. “I want what you want.”

“Besides that.” Felix looks at him intently. “Something else.”

Chris looks down at their joined hands. “I want,” he starts slowly, “to know that you’ll always be there. That I won’t lose you, because of this. A—and, that—that we’ll do this together.”

“Okay,” Felix says, voice barely audible over the music. “Alright.”

“And,” Chris says, heart pounding in his throat, “if I also want to make this as official as possible?”

Felix’s head tilts. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean,” Chris says, squeezing Felix’s hand, “I want to get to call you mine. Properly.”

“You already do,” Felix says, “don’t you?”

“I do,” Chris says. He calls Felix every name under the sun. Soulmate, his other him, his little one, his brother—well, he’s definitely going to have to pretend he’s never said that last one ever. “But I haven’t gotten to call you my boyfriend yet.”

It’s visceral, actually saying the word aloud.

He’s said it a lot in his head, the last few days. Each time, butterflies swarm through his gut and explode through his chest and seize his throat with something in between excitement and terror. It’s not ever anything he thought he’d be saying to another guy. Not in his life.

And here he is, saying it to the boy he’s pined after for so long.

Here he is, hoping that boy will say it back.

Felix looks stunned. “You—” he says, before throwing himself at Chris, arms around his shoulders.

Chris clutches at him, taken aback. “Is that a… yes?”

Felix pulls back and kisses him square on the lips. “Dude,” he says, “hell yeah.”

Chris snorts. “Bro. You really just ‘dude’d me in the middle of a conversation about our relationship.”

“Shh,” Felix says, “no time for talking. I’m busy kissing my boyfriend.”

"Boyfriend," Chris murmurs, and Felix knocks their noses together and echoes the word right back at him, fitting their mouths together perfectly on the last syllable. “You’re my boyfriend, Felix.”

“Say it again.” Felix’s smile is sweet against his lips. “Call me your boyfriend again.”

“My boyfriend, Felix Lee,” Chris whispers, and he bites down on a ridiculous giggle, pushing their foreheads together. He wants to say it to him over and over, until it’s all he knows. It’s real. They’re together. He’s in love with a boy who’s in love with him. It almost doesn’t feel real, but all of it is, it’s so real.

Felix kisses him, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Chris Bang,” he says, voice barely a rumble, “You’re mine.”

The words settle into place between them, lock and key.

“Yours.” Their hands reach for each other. A breath, and Chris is tugging Felix up, shutting the boot and dragging Felix into the side of the car, letting Felix tug the door closed behind them before pulling him into his lap. “I’m all yours.”

Felix fits his knees on either side of Chris’ hips, slinging his arms around Chris’ shoulders. His breath is warm and lemonade-scented against Chris’ cheek. “I’ve never made out with anyone in the back of a car before.”

Chris drags his hands up Felix’s back, feels him shiver under his palms. “Me neither.” His hands slide down, thumbs loosely tucking into the back of Felix’s jeans. “Wanna be the first?”

In lieu of an actual answer, Felix tilts his head down to lick at his lower lip, and Chris opens up for him easily, warm all over from the heat of the unmoving car and the way Felix keeps playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He’ll never get sick of this, never. Not kissing Felix. Now that he knows what it’s like—he doesn’t want to give this up. He never wants to, he never will.

Felix makes a little sound into his mouth, back arching into Chris’ hands. Chris counts the knobs in his spine and tastes the heat of his tongue and feels feverish with affection, sick with it the way love songs on the radio all describe. All for Felix, for Felix, only for Felix.

A murmur, a sigh. Hands travel down Chris’ front, smoothing across the fabric of his shirt, slow and intentional. Chris sucks at Felix’s lip and relishes in the little whimper he gets out of him, the way Felix’s shoulders curl in on himself, the way he chases Chris’ mouth for more. More kisses, more touches, more of this.

He’ll give Felix all of it. All of it and more.

Felix pulls back momentarily and rests their cheeks together. “Mm,” he says, eyes relaxed and closed. “I really like kissing you.”

“Me too.” Chris tucks a strand of hair back behind Felix’s ear. It’s getting long again. He likes when it gets like this, all fluffy and falling into his eyes. “I really like _you.”_

Felix exhales, and playfully swats Chris in the arm. “I knew that already,” he says, a laugh in the back of his throat. “I thought you said you loved me?”

“Yeah,” Chris says, wholly unable to stop the affection from slipping into his every word, “I do.”

Felix’s mouth falls open slightly as he takes a breath, his eyebrows knitting together as his gaze turns visibly fond. “Chan-hyung,” he says, soft and low, like the waves brushing against the shoreline, “kiss me again.”

And, Chris does.

They stay like that for a long moment, just tangled up in each other. Mouths slick against each other, hands on hips, on shoulders, in hair. At some point, Felix pulls away to mumble, “The windows fog up like in the movies,” sounding amazed by the little observation, and Chris can’t help but kiss him again and again for that, can’t help but smile at the thought that all of this is just as new to Felix as it is to him.

New and good and wonderful and—Chris can’t believe he ever thought this would be a bad thing. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Felix,” he whispers, drinking him in, distantly aware that this is the last he’ll properly get of Felix until they go back to a place with too many eyes on them, “Felix, Felix.”

“Chris.” Felix’s hands fall, and come to rest on Chris’ stomach, just above the hem of his trousers. “Can I touch you?”

Chris’ eyes flutter inadvertently at the thought. “Not now,” he murmurs, tilting his head to press a kiss against Felix’s collarbone, “but—”

Someone knocks on the window.

Both of them freeze, still curled up around each other. Chris’ entire body goes cold, his hands paused on Felix’s waist. Felix doesn’t even seem to be breathing, having gone statue-still.

Then, Chris glances up, and his heart sinks to his stomach.

_You’ve gotta be kidding me._

Slowly, he reaches out to roll the window down, letting the cool air in. “Um,” he says, voice a bit shaky, “hello, officer?”

“Hi,” the police officer says, a lit torch in one hand. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not—not at all.” Chris’ voice has gone ridiculously high-pitched. His parents are going to murder him. They are absolutely going to murder him.

The officer looks at them, not seeming to recognise them. Then, he says, way too casually for Chris’ incredibly delicate constitution, “Relax, you’re not in any trouble. But I think it’d be better if you got going. Public park and all.”

"Oh my gosh," Chris says, hand over his eyes, face beet-red, "we are... so, so sorry." Felix is shaking against his shoulder with hidden laughter, and Chris resists the urge to punch him.

"You boys get home safe, now."

"Yessir," Chris says in a tiny voice. "Thank you, sir."

"S'alright. You two aren't the first ones I've had to give a warning."

There’s a long pause as the police officer heads off, leaving them both still sitting in the car in silence.

Chris shuts the window.

Then, he bursts into laughter, tucking his face against Felix’s shoulder, and Felix is laughing too, so hard he starts to wheeze, falling off Chris and onto the other side of the back seat. “Holy shit,” Felix cries, clutching at Chris’ shirt, “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Wait, wait.” Chris scrambles for breath, holding onto Felix’s arm. “I thought—god, for a moment I thought it was a fan, or a pap—”

“Bruh,” Felix says, wiping at his eyes. “This is the worst date ever. But also, the _best_ date ever.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chris says, still laughing, “honestly.” His pulse is still rushing through his body with the adrenaline from that one horrifying moment, that absolutely bizarre but oddly normal moment.

That one moment, just one single moment, where they were just a couple of perfectly regular kids who got caught making out in the back of a car in a park.

Not anything else.

Felix catches Chris’ hand in his, gaze bright even in the dark of the night, wordless, purposeful, saying everything he needs to say without even saying it.

Chris smiles, and pushes the door open. “C’mon,” he says softly, “let’s go home.”

The car comes to a halt under a streetlight.

Chris doesn’t kiss Felix goodnight, but he reaches over and takes his hand, squeezing it tight. “I’ll see you at the airport, yeah?”

"Yeah," Felix says, chewing on his lip. He squeezes Chris’ hand in return, and then looks hesitant, glancing out the window. “Can I get a hug? Before I go?”

“Anytime. All the time. C’mere,” Chris murmurs, tugging Felix in, and Felix wraps his arms around him, warm and tight and secure like he doesn’t ever want to let go. Chris knows the feeling. “Hey,” he whispers. “I love you. Thanks for tonight.”

“Love you too,” Felix breathes, lips barely brushing Chris’ cheek when he speaks. “I’m just—I’m so glad we got to do this.”

This—go out together with no one watching? Talk things through properly for the first time? Be here, just like this?

“Me too,” Chris says, an unspoken answer to all of the above. “Tell your parents I said hi.”

“Mm.” Felix pulls away, looking just the slightest bit regretful that a hug’s all he’s getting, but he gives Chris his biggest, sweetest smile anyway. Ever Felix. “Yeah, will do. G’night.”

“Night,” Chris echoes, watching him get out of the car. He tracks Felix all the way down his driveway, right up to the door where he fumbles with the house keys his dad had lent him. Someone must’ve heard his car pull up, because the door’s opening before Felix can get to doing it.

Chris starts the car back up. When he glances up one last time, Felix's mum is on the porch, looking out towards where he’s parked.

Chris waves, smiling brightly.

She smiles back, hand on Felix's shoulder, and closes the door.

Two days later, they’re saying their last goodbyes to their families at the airport.

Chris kisses his sister on the temple, tugs his little brother in for a hug, and doesn’t let go of his parents for a long, long time.

“I’ll be back again soon,” he mumbles as he clutches at them tightly, feeling like he’s about to leave home for the first time again. Something in his chest squeezes tighter and tighter each time he thinks about stepping away. “I promise.”

“We know, Chan-ah.” His dad ruffles his hair, and clasps his shoulder. “We know.”

It feels like they’re coming out of a dream. Chris lugs his bags along, leans against Felix’s shoulder, and waves one last time to his parents, who tell him to call once he’s reached Seoul.

Felix’s parents do the same, and Felix nods diligently, his mask nearly slipping off the tip of his nose.

The soles of his shoes feel even heavier as they make their way to immigration. Part of him misses Seoul, missing working on new music, misses doing stuff with the group. The other part of him wants to wake up in the same bed that he has for the last week, to hear his mother calling his name, to feel the Australian sun against his skin.

“Wish we could’ve stayed longer,” Felix murmurs, words muffled. “It wasn’t enough.”

“It’s never gonna be enough.” Chris tugs him closer as they approach an escalator, curling one arm around his shoulders. “But it was good, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Felix meets his eyes, gaze soft. “Yeah, it was really good.”

Chris reaches up to adjust Felix’s beanie, and smiles.

Another day come and gone, another flight home.

They hold hands on the plane under the cover of Felix’s jacket, fingers curled loosely together even before it’s taken off. Felix spends almost the entire first half of their journey staring out the window, taking in the grass-greens and coastal-blues before it gives way to an endless stretch of ocean.

Chris spends the entire flight lost in his own head, thinking about the week he’s just had—the week _they’ve_ just had—and what comes next. He hasn’t been this irresponsible, this careless in years. Barely thinking about work. Barely thinking about the group, even, thoughts subsumed by family and Felix instead.

But it’d been fun to not be responsible for once in a long time. To just do whatever he wanted, to live a day in the years he’d given up in to chase a dream that means everything to him.

Just once.

Maybe they could’ve had something normal if they weren’t who they are, he thinks. But—maybe they never would’ve met at all if they weren’t who they are.

Chris doesn’t want to ever imagine that, not having met Felix. Not knowing him, not having him in his life.

So, maybe they can’t have something normal. It’s fine.

It’s still something. He’s not going to lose it for anything.

Chris used to think he would sacrifice it all for Stray Kids alone—and he still would, that hasn’t changed. He always will.

 _Except,_ he thinks, feeling the warmth of Felix asleep on his shoulder, _now there's something else I’d sacrifice it all for, too._

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/SSEOMT) | [cc](http://curiouscat.me/SSEOMT)
> 
> note: i've intentionally left out direct mention of their siblings' names because i didn't want to have to lock this. future works in this series may be locked for this reason (if i do end up referring to them by name and not for a throwaway line). thanks for understanding!


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